


with you, our beginnings

by Ceta



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Royalty, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Prince Victor Nikiforov, it's mostly just fluff guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-26 16:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13239288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceta/pseuds/Ceta
Summary: As with all relations, theirs starts with a ball, champagne, and a question.The question is this: "Katsuki Yuuri, will you do me the honor of staying by my side for forever?"In which Victor loves Yuuri from the beginning, and Yuuri just now comes to realize it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If this sounds familiar, that's because it is! It's that one royalty au that I scrapped a few months earlier -- but redone! The first chapter, though, is still pretty much the same, so the change will start next chapter.

As with all relations, theirs starts with a ball, champagne, and a question.

 

"Are you all right?"

 

Yuuri twirls around, steps crisp and confident despite the way his mind might as well be three thousand cities northbound and laughing down at him from the stars. It's easy enough to ignore the question - easy enough for it to slip in one ear then out the other, really - and he hums a tune that's rough and off-beat, holding his companion, a bottle of champagne that Christophe had smuggled for him, in both hands. Gentle, smooth, he dances not to the song he's humming but to a routine emblazoned in his mind since he was young. He doesn't remember how he's learned it, assumes that it was Minako who had hammered it into his head in her own loving and unforgiving way, but it soothes him so he doesn't question it.

 

He steps back, slides, turns counter-clockwise too quick, and the innards of his companion splatter all over the stone walkway. 

 

Gasping, he fumbles with the bottle, nearly dropping it, and holds it at arms-length in hopes of... something. He's not quite sure what the bottle would do in retaliation,  but he'd rather avoid it because Yuuri needs to look nice for the evening. Minako had made him promise that he wouldn't mope on the outskirts and enjoy himself. Yuuko had linked their pinkies, looked him dead in the eye, and told him that she'd make him swallow a thousand needles if he didn't talk to someone other than Christophe and Phichit. His mother, smiling and kind as she patted down his outfit earlier today, had said, "Wouldn't it be nice if you made some friends there?"

 

Upon witnessing his haggard appearance afterwards, Takeshi had patted his shoulder and laughed. 

 

Slowly setting the bottle down on the ground, Yuuri takes a step back and courtesies. Bottle or not, it had been his partner; it deserves to be treated as such.

 

"... Yuuri."

 

He starts and stares at the bottle. It couldn't be, right? Bottles don't talk - well, not any Yuuri knows of - but maybe-

 

"Yuuri," the voice says again, sharper and much closer. Yuuri whirls around to see... He squints his eyes. Whoever they are, it's hard to see them where they are underneath the lamplight. It's awfully bright. He should file a suggestion to dim it down later - oh, but who would he give it to? Perhaps Christophe? He's closest to the royal family, so maybe he could-

 

"... Hello," Yuuri manages to say around his uncooperative tongue. He squints more, eyes nothing more than slits now, and says, "I can't- who are you? Is that you, Phichit? The light is so bright that I can't see."

 

The light shifts and stutters around smooth edges and curves, and then there's a hand reaching out to him. Cool fingers brush his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, slip down to cup a cheek, and Yuuri, skin heated and uncomfortably warm to the tips of his ears, leans into it with a sigh.  

 

A thumb caresses his cheekbone for a moment, gentle and feather-light, before fingers pinch and pull. Yuuri yelps. "You were careless," the voice - male but not Phichit, he knows now, since Yuuri is much more aware - chastises. "Why are you out here by yourself? An unsuspecting guest, drunk. What if someone had come and done something to you?"

 

"'ey're oo 'usy," Yuuri whines - just the slightest bit. He makes a face and the fingers release their hold on his cheek. He rubs it as he narrows his eyes at the vague impression of the other man standing across from him. "No one would spare someone like me a second glance." Looking away as he rubs away the ghost of pain from his cheek, he adds in a mumble, "Besides, Victor is there, too, so no one will come out."

 

There's a pause. A breeze cools the sweat on his skin. With it, comes a margin of clarity.

 

"You did."

 

Yuuri blinks, surprised, and shifts his gaze back up. This time around, he can make out gleaming gold - bright, Yuuri thinks with a wince - and a head of silver and tell-tale shades of scarlet. He stares, brain churning at an embarrassingly slow pace, and says to buy time: "You did, too."

 

When he hears that beautiful, treasured laugh, the one that pulls the sun up to the sky and coaxes flowers to bloom, and a fond, "I guess, I did," something clicks.

 

Standing before him, in all of his glory, is His Highness, beloved Prince Victor Nikiforov.

 

"Oh," Yuuri hears himself say. He rubs the heel of his palm to his eyes and blinks again. When Victor only becomes clearer and doesn't shimmer out of existence, Yuuri feels dangerously close to combusting. " _ Oh _ ."

 

He needs to sit down. There are no chairs or other horizontal edges that he can sit down on, but he needs to sit right now. After a moment of quelling the burst of panic fighting up his throat like a war to be won, Yuuri decides that the ground is as good as any place to melt into in the face of this too-bright man, so he sits on the ground and buries his face into his hands and tries to reign in whatever self-berate his mind cheerily conjures. 

 

Despite dancing with a champagne bottle, Yuuri's not so out of it that he doesn't recognize the fact that he's just embarrassed himself in front of Victor. Victor, who inspires and motivates Yuuri as much as Yuuri wants to be with him. Victor, who is standing right there, who had just seen Yuuri making a fool of himself in the dead in the night in the middle of his garden like he owned the place, who is now crouching down to Yuuri's level, cloak spilling out over the pavement.

 

Yuuri wishes he was intoxicated beyond comprehension - sorely, desperately wishes - but clarity is what he has an abundance of right now, especially with the realization that it's Victor he's talking to and not one of his friends, and he mourns for his dignity. It's dead, now - gone, never to see the light of day again so long as he and Victor walk the same earth.

 

"I am sincerely sorry you had to see that," Yuuri says into his hands.

 

"See what?" Victor says, and the confusion in his tone sounds genuine. Yuuri glances up, sees the mirth shining in his eyes, and he smothers the laugh bubbling at this entire situation. Victor ducks a little lower, head tilting to the side, to make out Yuuri's expression. Like this, Yuuri can see the warm smile on his lips. "What was it that I had to see? Will you tell me? I feel awfully out of the loop right now."

 

"N- No," Yuuri says, weak, shoulders shaking in silent chuckles. He has half a mind to realize that Victor - prince of the kingdom and Yuuri's dream since he was a teenager - is teasing him, but the other half is short-circuiting because Victor is  _ teasing  _ him. 

 

Victor puts a finger to his lips and hums, considering. "Will you show me, then?"

 

"Absolutely not!" Yuuri cries, head whipping up despite the blush making itself comfortable in his cheeks. Then he starts, because he snapped at Victor - and is that enough to be sentenced for treason? - but that only startles a laugh out of the prince and makes Yuuri's pounding heart soar to unmanageable levels. A hand clutches the fabric at his chest, and he hopes that it's enough to keep his heart in place.

 

"Forgive me," Victor says once he quiets down. There's still a smile on his lips, but the way he looks at Yuuri is incredibly fond. "I... I haven't been this happy in a while."

 

Yuuri's not so disillusioned to think the he's the one that made Victor happy, so he asks, "Why? Did something happen?"

 

Victor blinks and draws back a little, his smile wilting around the edges. Yuuri can see the way the light plays across his eyes and dances with its shadows. "You must have missed the announcement," Victor realizes. He swipes his bangs out of his eyes only for it to fall back into place, and he huffs.

 

"Announcement?"

 

"Yes," Victor says. He stands up, brushes off the dust on his pants, and holds out a hand for Yuuri to take. After a moment, Yuuri takes it and Victor pulls him up, keeping their hands locked when he says, "I've chosen my partner."

 

Partner. Yuuri's brain short-circuits, gears creaking as they turn just enough to keep bodily functions from failing but not enough to think about the multitude of thoughts rushing through his mind. Victor has chosen his partner. Partner - dancing? No, betrothed - yes, that's right. That's good. What now? What's Yuuri - a stranger, no one of immediate importance - supposed to say to that?

 

"Congratulations," he manages to force out from somewhere between his brain and throat. Partner. Yuuri feels a little of his dream -  _ since he was a teenager _ \- dissolve into helpless if onlys. Despite himself, his earlier joy bleeds out with the single word, and he can't help but find it unfair to Victor, who has been searching and searching and searching for years for the special person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Yuuri should be happier. He manages a small smile and hope it doesn't look as terrible as it feels.

 

Victor runs a thumb over the knuckles of Yuuri's hands, a slight smile on his lips but affection clear in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, squeezing his hands for a brief moment, hesitating in a way Yuuri's never seen before. Then: "Though I suppose I should congratulate you, as well."

 

Yuuri's brain has all but given up at this point. "What?"

 

"Congratulations," Victor says, enunciating it. The smile on his lips blooms into something stunning and blinding, and Yuuri's captivated. "It looks like our beloved Prince Victor has chosen you to be his partner."

 

Partner.  _ You _ .

 

There's a moment of blessed silence, Victor smiling down at Yuuri as he stares up at Victor, and then it's as though the earth is crumbling underneath Yuuri's feet.

 

"What?"

 

Ever so smooth, Victor brings one of Yuuri's hands to his lips, warmth in his gaze as he looks at Yuuri like he's beloved and precious. Yuuri stares back at him, blood rushing through his ears and heart pounding against his chest. He's scarcely breathing.

 

As with all relations, theirs starts with a ball, champagne, and a question.

 

The question is this: "Katsuki Yuuri, will you do me the honor of staying by my side for forever?"

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (っ・ω・)っ～☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"You're a moron of the highest degree," Yuri tells Victor when he catches him mooning over Katsuki Yuuri, who is sleeping in one of the palace's guest room after falling - literally - into Victor's arms when he fainted from shock. _ Catches  _ is a relatively tame way to put it, though. Victor thinks _ storming around the palace yelling at the top of his lungs until Victor sent a servant to fetch him so that Yuuri could rest _ fits more appropriately.

 

Victor puts a finger to lips, his smile thin as he regards Yuri. "Quiet, Yura. Yuuri's sleeping," he says, reminding Yuri of the blatant fact that there is a guest here. Yuri only scoffs and crosses his arms, leveling Victor with a look dry as dust.

 

" _ I'm _ Yuri," he gripes, but it's an old retort, and it's former toxicity has already been worn away through years of use. He juts his chin over in Yuuri's direction, scowl deepening when his eyes pick out every physical flaw he can make out. The intensity of his gaze is a ghost of Madame Lilia's when she demands nothing short of perfection when going through routines and etiquette.  Victor doesn't like it, knows that Yuri isn't so shallow to judge someone based entirely on looks alone, but it doesn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching when Yuri says, "This is who you've been pining after - this pig? What do you see in someone like him?"

 

"Everything important," Victor says by way of reply, words light and airy. He adjusts his smile, makes it fit more comfortably on his lips, because Yuri is nothing but notorious for trying Victor's temper on a good day. "If that's all, then perhaps you should take your leave, Yura."

 

"You're an idiot," Yuri stresses. He watches as Victor turns back to look at Yuuri with something warm and bright in his eyes. It's not new, this look; Yuri has seen it flicker pass Victor's eyes whenever he watches snow fall, whenever he wraps a scarf around his neck when he travels outside, fingers trailing over the material with quiet fondness, but Yuri has never been able to pinpoint what, exactly, makes Victor's overwhelming smiles shift into something soft and vulnerable - something obstinately not Victor.

 

Until now, that is, because Victor is gazing at Katsuki Yuuri with his heart in his eyes, frighteningly sincere. Yuri, against his will, feels something frigid and sharp grip his heart.

 

Victor reaches out to brush away disheveled bangs, fingers lingering against Yuuri's flushed temple. In the orange-gold glow of the lamp, wrapped half in shadows and half in light, turned to each other as they are, Victor and Yuuri are in a world of their own despite Yuri standing a handful of feet away. It aches to watch Victor's careful affection, the way his eyes never leave Yuuri's face, the way his fingers end their exploration, happily, curled around Yuuri's limp hand. Yuri's throat shuts tight, because Victor isn't like this - has never been like this - like he's bursting with joy and overwhelmed by utter adoration.

 

It makes Yuri wonder, unbidden and terrible, just what he has been doing wrong all these years.

 

"I'll gladly be an idiot," Victor says, a gentle murmur in the silence, eyes glittering gold as he looks down at Yuuri, "even an idiot of the highest degree, if it means I'll have him with me."

 

Is it strange to feel like the worst kind of outsider in his own home? Is it strange that Yuri, now, feels like a stranger before this Victor, who is unraveling himself from years of painstaking perfection to bare his heart to the one person he wants to hold it? They've never been particularly close. The expectations Victor set before Yuri was born and Yuri's sparking temper played a part in the distance between them both. There were times, though, small moments where Victor helped him with words on just this side of teasing, small moments where Yuri would sit down in the same room as Victor when he was neck-deep in work just to pass the time. Then, it had felt like they'd crossed the distance, shortened it somewhat, so that they were something a little more than First Prince Victor and Second Prince Yuri but still something a little less than brothers.

 

Now, though, Yuri thinks there may be the beginnings of a rift dragging apart that distance into something longer and harder to cross, a gaping void where once their feet had been meters apart.

 

"What did he do to have you wrapped around his grubby little fingers?" Yuri says, and it comes out harsh - harsher than Yuri wants it to be - but it's already hanging in the open with no way to bite it back. He crosses his arms tighter, digs his nails into the thin silk of his night clothes, huffs out a breath. "So far, from what I know, all he's done is leave the palace and embarrass himself by dancing with a bottle of wine."

 

"Maybe I fell for his drunken charms," Victor says with a shrug and a smile, disregarding both Yuri's tone and the slight. "He dances like a dream, Yura. You should see it one day."

 

"All the more reason to say that he'll slip just as easily from your grasp," Yuri snaps. He jabs a finger at Yuuri, who's dead to the world. "You don't even know if he wants you!"

 

Victor's lips twitch - the only tell Yuri has been able to discern after years of watching him - and Yuri knows he's hit a nerve. "He doesn't have to- "

 

"He has to if you're looking at him like that!" Yuri says, and his voice is rising, upset and angry, because Victor is an idiot. Victor's eyes widen just a fraction, and it would have been satisfying if Yuri isn't so frustrated. "He has to! What are you going to do if he doesn't?"

 

There's a pause where they both stare at each other, then Victor's lips part, the corners of his smile wilting just a little.

 

"I'll keep loving him."

 

Fingers curling, nails digging into his palms, Yuri glares into Victor's eyes and sees the shadows that have made a home in them rise up to swallow the brief light Katsuki Yuuri sparked within them just by breathing Victor's way. "Are you out of your mind?"

 

Victor would never do this, would never willingly put himself in harm's way if there isn't anything to be gained, so why why why-

 

"No," Victor tells him, and the smile on his lips twitches, wobbles just enough for Yuri to see. His eyes are shining again. "I'm just following my heart, Yura."

 

Why is his older brother doing this?

 

* * *

 

Yuuri wakes caught between a dream and a nightmare, because His Royal Highness, First Prince Victor, is sleeping at his bedside. His face is turned towards him, gentle in a way it rarely is whenever Yuuri seeks him out behind the shroud of the public, and one of his hands is draped over Yuuri’s in a warm, lax grip. It's... It's too much in the face of the persistent headache pounding against the back of his skull, and Yuuri has played through this scenario too many times to count - waking up with Prince Victor suddenly and miraculously  _ there _ \- to know that this won't end before he's completely embarrassed himself. Hence, dangling on the unstable precipice of a dream before dropping feet-first into a nightmare.

 

He shuts his eyes, too weary to contemplate the why's and how's now, but Prince Victor is a warm presence beside him in a way he never has been in his slumbering thoughts. Peeking his eyes open again, reluctance dragging his pace, Yuuri studies his surroundings the best that he can without the aid of his glasses, though even without them Yuuri can tell that wherever he is, it's someplace grand. Scarlets and violets spill down the sides of the bed from the canopy, though most of the material is tied away to their respective bed posts to let the light in, and beyond them Yuuri can make out something that can be a desk or a drawer on the opposite wall, and a large window spanning nearly the entire wall adjacent to it. There are other blurs of colors that can be a painting, a lamp or a vase of flowers, or a chair tucked beside the window, but Yuuri doesn't dwell on those for too long - _ can't,  _ rather, because Prince Victor stirs. 

 

Enraptured, Yuuri watches as Prince Victor slowly wakes up, and though he isn't able to make out the finer details of it - like how his brows draw together or how his lashes flutter as he fights wakefulness - it's like watching the sun rise: beautiful, despite how it makes Yuuri slightly apprehensive. The hand over his own tightens its grip briefly before Prince Victor's sky-bright eyes are sleepily revealed.

 

Then, all at once, Prince Victor's face is inches away from his own, brought into startling clarity. 

 

“Yuuri! You're awake! I was worried you'd never wake up,” Prince Victor exclaims, and before Yuuri can manage a thought about Prince Victor’s dramatics or the fact that he remembers his name between weariness and his relentless headache, he’s squinting his eyes against Prince Victor’s luminous smile. “Good morning!”

 

“Good… Good morning, Your Highness,” Yuuri starts, but before he can inquire the why’s or how's of his current situation, the prince is quick to correct him. 

 

“No, no, please, just Victor,” the prince -  _ Victor  _ \- tells him. Yuuri manages a shaky nod of acquiescence even though there is nothing  _ just  _ about Victor at all. “I'm not… Victor fits more appropriately, I think, when we're to be wed.” He pauses, and his bright demeanor shifts into something quietly hopeful when he says, “Though that's a bit presumptuous of me. I've yet to receive your answer, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri has half a mind to blurt out  _ What?  _ when he remembers the night before, and Pri-  _ Victor’s  _ outrageous proposal. His heart thunders loud in his ears, each resounding pulse chanting  _ yes, yes, yes _ , but Yuuri knows better than to listen to it.

 

“Wouldn’t you rather someone more fitting?” Yuuri asks in reply, incredulity lining his words. When Victor’s expression - not  _ falls _ , exactly, but dims, Yuuri hurries to explain. “Like Duchess Babicheva, or Chris- Duke Giacometti, or someone with- someone  _ better _ \- “

 

“Mila is like a sister to me,” Victor interrupts, though not unkindly. Yuuri starts when he squeezes his hand. “She’s also wholly uninterested in marrying me. She has her sights on Sara Crispino, the daughter of a viscount. They’re good for each other, those two. I wouldn’t want to break them up even if I was interested in Mila’s hand.” His gaze is steady as he holds onto Yuuri, but an amused smile graces his lips as he continues. “As for Chris, I wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last man on earth. He has someone of his own, anyway.”

 

“O-Oh,” Yuuri says, because what else is he supposed to say?

 

Victor studies him for a moment, eyes intent, and Yuuri thinks he might press the issue. However, Victor leans back into his seat, though he doesn't let go of Yuuri’s hand, and offers him a gentle smile. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? You slept through breakfast, but I had some food brought up here in case you were feeling unwell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink as much as you did last night, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri starts. That light statement is all the confirmation that Yuuri needs to know that Victor remembers, through some twist of fate, who Yuuri is -  _ was _ to him. Still, he finds himself averting his gaze and murmuring, “You remember.”

 

There’s the sound of clinking, and Victor chuckles as he settles a tray laden with warm, savory food onto Yuuri’s lap. “My memory isn’t the best, but I don’t think I’d ever forget you, Yuuri, even if it’s been a few years since we last spoke.”

 

Despite Victor’s light tone, Yuuri finds himself wincing because he hears the veiled reprimand. “I didn’t think it’d matter,” Yuuri tries to explain, his gaze anywhere but at Victor. He knows what he’ll find if he looks up, is familiar with stern blue eyes boring into his soul, the thin line of his lips when he frowns. He picks at his food. “I… I wasn’t anyone important, and we didn’t converse much, besides.”

 

“You mean you went out of your way to keep me occupied instead of talking to me , ” Victor says, though there’s no heat behind it. In fact, he sounds almost amused. When he settles back into his seat beside the bed, Yuuri chances a glance over at him and sees that he’s smiling. “It was no fault of yours, of course, even though keeping up a one-sided conversation was tiring. You were there to protect me, not be my conversation partner.”

 

“You’re a busy man,” is all Yuuri can say, because it’s true. Though conversations between them were not uncommon, Yuuri often did his best to divert Victor’s attention to more important matters in an effort to keep his calm. Speaking more than a few sentences often had him flustered and floundering for a way to avoid embarrassing himself in front of the prince, and Victor honestly was - and perhaps still is - swamped with work.

 

_ Not like it matters, anymore _ , he thinks to himself. He’d no doubt very thoroughly dragged his name through shame the night before with Victor as a witness. He can’t help but wonder how Victor can still look at him with a straight face, especially when he knows that Yuuri used to be the very knight assigned to protect him - not that he’d done a very good job at it in the end.

 

Pressing his lips together, Yuuri looks back down at his food and shoves the thought away for another time.

 

“Perhaps,” Victor responds with a shrug of his shoulders. He still hasn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand yet, so Yuuri plays with the fork with his other hand, tapping it against his meal before giving in and finally eating. “I never could figure out why you left, though. It isn’t the same without you.”

 

Yuuri shoves down his flinch and chews on the thin strips of meat on his plate to avoid answering the unspoken question. Victor, as keen as Yuuri remembers him being, leaves it at that. 

 

Squeezing his hand to get Yuuri’s attention, Victor pulls his lips into the wide, heart-shaped smile Yuuri adores. “How do you feel about meeting the king and queen once you’re done?”

 

“Wh-What?” Yuuri squeaks.

 

“I promised I’d bring my intended to meet with them,” Victor explains, still smiling, as if he isn’t offering to walk Yuuri to his end. Yuuri’s too shocked by it to think about  _ intended _ or about the fact that Victor, for some reason, wants to be with him. “Nevermind the fact that you’ve yet to give me a reply.”

 

“I don’t even know why you want to  _ marry me _ ,“ Yuuri starts, flabbergasted. He sets aside the tray of food and wrings the comforter between his worrying fingers. “I thought, with the years that went by, that you would forget I was ever by your side at all.”

 

Victor is quick to reply. Curling both his hands around the hand he has captive, he says, “There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought about you and all you’ve done for me.”

 

“I haven’t done anything worth- “  _ your smile, your adoration, your anything  _ “-... you.”

 

There’s a shift, and the mattress dips as Victor sits his weight upon it. Carefully, he winds an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders until Yuuri gives and lets himself be pulled to Victor’s side. Victor presses his cheek to Yuuri’s temple, and this close Yuuri can’t dress the honesty in his voice as anything else.

 

“You’ve done everything, Yuuri,” Victor tells him, sincere. Yuuri knows better than to take his words to heart - not for any fault in Victor’s character, but because of his own - but it’s hard. “Whether or not you remember, or just won’t believe it, that’ll never change.”

 

Yuuri  _ does  _ remember, though. He remembers the blood, the shadows crowding around Victor’s body like a wake of vultures, the dread that made his heart plummet down to his gut, the fury that blotted his vision red, and the desperation that had him slicing down everything in his way to get to Victor. He remembers his utter ineptitude in that moment, because  _ Victor  _ was the one who protected him when it should have been Yuuri protecting him.

  
And he reminds himself of that fact, over and over again, because he doesn’t deserve to remember the way Victor looked at him afterwards, eyes full of relief, or the way he smiled weakly up at him and whispered,  _ Thank god you’re all right _ .

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blink, and it's already Valentine's!

“I really do need to head home,” Yuuri tells Victor on the second day of his extended welcome.

 

Yesterday had been an unnerving experience, showing himself before the king and queen once again, though this time as Victor's _intended_ and not as his knight. Yuuri was beside himself with worry as Victor took him by the hand to meet them, because he'd left on less than amicable terms. In fact, there were barely any terms at all since Yuuri had, without a wisp of grace or tact, told them he'd be withdrawing as Victor's knight right before leaving the palace in what he assumed to be for good.

 

His worries were unfounded, in the end. He was met with warm welcomes and twin smiles, and it seemed both king and queen were delighted to see him again. Everything went well - for the most part.

 

Along with the king and queen, Second Prince Yuri had been present as well, and while Yuuri scarcely spoke to him beyond polite greetings, unnerved by his dark glare, he could tell he was unwelcomed by the younger prince.

 

It would be better to go home sooner rather than later, Yuuri knows. The less time he spends here, the less troubles he’ll cause, and the less he’ll fall for this strange twist of fate between he and Victor, or be tempted by Victor’s kind eyes and honest declarations.

 

(Hasetsu is safe. There are no marriage proposals or wholesome princes there. Yuuri will go back to doing what he’s been doing these few years since he left knighthood: helping his family.

 

Victor will realize he’s completely fabricated Yuuri’s true character in his mind, that though he remembers Yuuri’s name and face and past relation, his memories of _what_ he did are frankly hazy, its voids filled by Victor’s own generosity in making Yuuri out to be more than he actually is. Then he’ll forget him, truly this time, and all will be well again.)

 

Victor looks over from where he’s striking one of the pells with a practice sword, looking far from winded, and not for the first time, Yuuri wonders why Victor ever needed a knight assigned to him in the first place. Despite his various duties, Victor never failed to find time to practice his swordsmanship, often persuading Yuuri to come and act as a sparring partner when he was still here. Now, Yuuri can see that Victor still kept up with it, and that he’s as skilled as ever.

 

“So soon?” Victor asks as he comes over to where Yuuri sits to the side of the training grounds. Yuuri declined Victor’s offer to spar, then his next offer to train alongside him, and Victor left him after pressing a practice blade into his hands and saying, _Just in case you want to join_. He drops beside him, somehow making it seem graceful, and says, “I thought you could stay for a little longer.”

 

“A day or two more,” Yuuri says, hesitant. While Yuuri does want to head home as soon as he can, it’d be rude to suddenly leave without proper goodbyes like he did the first time around. He made a bad enough impression already. No need to make himself out to be a mannerless heathen now.

 

Victor looks at him, a smile Yuuri can’t place on his lips. “I was thinking you could stay longer than that.”

 

Yuuri stares back at him. “... A week?” he asks.

 

Victor continues to smile. “Longer,” he tells him.

 

“A fortnight?”

 

“A little longer, Yuuri.”

 

“A _month_?”

 

“You’re getting warmer.”

 

Yuuri stares at him, fighting the urge to openly gape. Warmth climbs up his neck when he asks, voice small, “A year?”

 

Victor’s smile shifts, turns gentle and fond, and Yuuri, at least, is familiar with this expression. “I was thinking forever.” He laughs at Yuuri’s startled look, the red on his cheeks warming into something deeper, and Yuuri ducks his head. He misses the way Victor looks at him then, yearning clear in his eyes. “Though I guess that would be unreasonable of me. You have a family to go back to, after all… Perhaps a lover, too.”

 

Jerking his head up, Yuuri sees that Victor is looking at him with a small, wry smile. “You aren’t….” he pauses, doesn’t know where he’s going with that and so abandons it altogether, then tries again because Victor should never be smiling like that, like he’s nothing compared to whatever fantastical lover he’s already thought up for Yuuri. “I’m not- I don’t have one. A lover.”

 

When Victor’s eyes go bright, Yuuri has to stifle the urge to wrap him in his arms. His smile is small but genuinely joyful, quietly happy at Yuuri’s admission.

 

“I’m glad.” He shifts, and his fingers brush against Yuuri’s, feather-light, before settling just beside them, warm and nearly touching. Yuuri feels heat creep up his neck as Victor continues. “I’m not sure what I would have done, if you were already with someone.”

 

“You proposed, though,” Yuuri says, confused.

 

Victor tips his head back and chuckles. Not for the first time, Yuuri thinks him beautiful with the sun in his smile and shining in his eyes, and he’s drawn, as he always is, to Victor’s treasured laugh. “That I did. I… The years you’ve been gone have been arduous, Yuuri. Imagine how happy I was when I saw that you accepted my invitation to the ball.”

 

Starting, Yuuri blinks at Victor, who’s watching him with happiness clear in his eyes, and finds that he doesn’t have to imagine at all when Victor’s looking at him like Yuuri’s brought him all the joy in the world.

 

“Enough for you to propose to me,” Yuuri says, cheeks warm.

 

“Enough to ask you to stay by my side forever, this time,” Victor tells him.

 

“Even though there are dozens of others who wouldn’t hesitate to marry you.”

 

“Even though there are hundreds of others who wouldn’t hesitate to marry _you_ ,” Victor retorts, but he’s still smiling, still gazing straight at Yuuri like he’s the only thing in the world. “I can wait a while for a reply, if it’s from you.”

 

Yuuri falls silent at that and looks away. “I’m not fit for a prince.”

 

“I never asked you to marry a prince,” Victor says gently. His hand comes to cover Yuuri’s own, and Yuuri’s heart does dangerous flips in his chest. “I asked you to marry me.”

 

_Aren’t they the same, in the end?_ Yuuri wants to ask. Victor’s hand is warm, has always been nothing but, and Yuuri wants to grasp it tight, never wants to let it go, because he’s selfish. He wants Victor beside him - can admit, in the shadows of his thoughts, that Victor’s proposal filled him with overwhelming happiness - but Yuuri can’t be beside Victor. It’s a lesson he learned already, the fact that Yuuri is _unfit_ and _incompetent_ and _shameful_.

 

No matter what dreams he may have had when he was younger, Yuuri isn’t a knight in shining armor. He wants to be - _wanted_ to be, for his family and for his friends; for Victor, whose smile is still something Yuuri thinks should be treasured - but this isn’t a fairytale.

 

If he can’t do something as straightforward as keeping Victor safe, what hope does he have in being Victor’s husband?

 

When Yuuri doesn’t say anything for a long moment, Victor curls his fingers around Yuuri’s hand and asks, flippant and teasing, “Am I undesirable if I’m not a prince?”

 

Yuuri hears the forlorn edge that underscores his tone, though, knows the sharpness of doubt, the brutality of anxiety, and doesn’t hesitate to blurt out, “Of course not!”

 

“Should I become something else? A knight, perhaps?” Victor smiles. “I’d be your knight in shining armor any day, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri’s lips pull into a frown. “Your Highness- “

 

“Ah! I’m not a prince, remember?” Victor cuts in with a conspiratorial wink. “I’m Victor, now - or would that be Sir Victor? - so none of that _Your Highness_ anymore. I’ve forgotten how stubborn you are, Yuuri, especially when it came to addressing me as Victor. One grueling, long year it took just to hear you call me by my name - only for you to go back to calling me Your Highness the moment we’re reunited!”

 

Yuuri hides the flinch that yanks at him, shifting so that the movement won’t catch Victor’s eyes. He knows that Victor is teasing, can hear the smile in his words, the faint edge of nostalgia rounding his tone into something light and gentle. Yuuri _knows_ this, has been on the other end of Victor’s merciless teasing for years to know that Victor will never truly mean to hurt him with his words, especially not after seeing Yuuri’s anxiety firsthand as it all but poured out of him in reckless abandon the first year he’d been assigned to Victor.

 

Yuuri knows, too, that he’s so easily hurt even with the firm metal plating between him and the rest of the world - doubly so, now that he no longer has his suit of armor to hide behind. Because Victor, who had to poke and prod for years to get Yuuri to open up just a fraction, is suddenly seeing him bared of all the walls he had put between them.

 

The Yuuri underneath the armor was dedicated to his job, not much of a conversationalist, and hard-headed when it came to Victor.

 

This Yuuri is all of that and more, covered with faults he can no longer hide from Victor’s searching eyes.

 

“Victor,” he amends, and he can see the way Victor’s entire demeanor brightens. It makes something warm flood Yuuri’s chest, how easily he can make Victor happy, how he becomes someone else entirely when he’s smiling because of genuine joy rather than out of politeness. He resolves not to think about it; it’d only hurt more, in the end. “I just want you to be as you are.”

 

“A prince, then?”

 

Yuuri shakes his head, because even though Victor _is_ a prince, that’s not what he means. “I want you to be yourself. As Victor. Just Victor.”

 

When Victor doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his hold on Yuuri’s hand tightening, Yuuri looks up to see that he’s looking at him with the most heart-aching smile on his lips and stars in his eyes.

 

“Have I ever told you I missed you?” Victor asks, and the open sincerity in his words has Yuuri's heart swelling in a way it hasn't in a long time. Trust Victor to know what to say to have Yuuri regressing back to his rose-tinted world.

 

Yuuri doesn't say anything in reply - can't, really, when his heart is trying to fly out of his throat and into Victor's hands - but Victor has lived four years understanding Yuuri's tongue-tied ways as dedicated silence, and so he's far from concerned by the lack of answer. He curls his fingers tighter around Yuuri’s palm and sighs something like relief.

 

(Like just this small touch is enough to banish his worries and frustrations, like coming home after a long grueling day.)

 

“I missed you,” Victor tells him. He looks up the sky as he says this, and Yuuri lets his eyes trace his sharp jawline and high cheeks, the tip of his chin and the curve of his neck, back up to compare Victor’s eyes to the sky overhead.

 

They're much brighter than the sky, and much more beautiful, but Yuuri is biased.

 

He presses his lips together, unsure of what to say, but he goes with honesty and replies, “I missed you as well, even if I was the one to leave.”

 

Victor glances at him then, a small smile on his lips. Yuuri doesn't think he ever stopped since the moment he woke up in the palace. “Will you ever tell me why you left?”

 

Yuuri looks down at his knees, fingers curling into the grass. Victor must feel the tension in his hand, and he runs a thumb across his knuckles in a soothing feature.

 

“It's fine if you don't,” Victor eventually says. He pauses, and Yuuri hears the unmistakable hint of hope in his voice when he continues, “You're here now.”

 

Letting out a quiet, measured breath, Yuuri tries his best to keep his heart from aching too much. Victor is kind and incredible and one of the few miracles on this earth, and Yuuri can't stand it sometimes, how blinding Victor is, how the depth of his patience rivals that of the sea. He doesn't deserve the grace of Victor’s attention, the warmth of his affection, but he craves it anyway.

 

“And when I'm gone?” Yuuri asks, because even though Yuuri wants to stay, wants Victor to keep looking at him like he's his world, Yuuri knows that he needs to leave. He's already slipping into daydreams, entertaining ideas that he shouldn't, thinking of a future with Victor in it… He hears Victor shift beside him and clenches his eyes shut.

 

“You still want to leave?” Victor asks, chuckling slightly. When Yuuri hunches his shoulders, expression going pinched, Victor is quick to assure him. “No, no! Yuuri, it's fine. I understand. I didn't expect you to stay just because I asked you to - you've always been more stubborn than that; don't you remember the incident with Duke Chulanont? - so don't make that face. It breaks my heart to see it.”

 

Yuuri tries to school his expression into something less telling, but even then Victor shakes his head.

 

“Wait, no- Yuuri. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that - well, I _did,_ but not because I'm irritated or disappointed or frustrated, I just... “ He blows out a breath and when Yuuri opens his eyes, it's to see Victor running a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. When their gazes meet again, there's a dismal shadow in Victor’s gentle eyes. “Is there anything I can do to have you stay? Even for longer than a few days?”

 

Yuuri stares at him. “I…” Victor looks back at him, earnest, and Yuuri can’t bring himself to put out the glimmer of hope he sees in them. He glances down, weak. Always, always weak whenever it comes to Victor. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says, then swallows back the thoughts telling him to _end this_ and _don’t be selfish_ , and continues, shaky. “I can’t- I can’t _stay_ , but I’ll… I can come visit, when I’m able to, if you’ll allow it- “

 

“Yes!” Victor all but exclaims. He takes both of Yuuri’s hands into his, beams at him like Yuuri’s given him the world on a silver platter. Yuuri feels his chest ache with dangerous longing. “A thousand times, yes! Come over any day, any time, Yuuri. I’ll make time, always, I’ll be sure to.”

 

Yuuri vigorously shook his head. “No, no, no! You don’t have to- “

 

“I _want_ to, Yuuri- “

 

“You have to take care of the kingdom,” Yuuri presses. He tries to pull his lips into something reassuring. “It’s fine, Victor. Just being together with you is fine, no matter what it is we’re doing.”

 

He doesn’t realize what he’s said until the words are already out of his mouth, too late to swallow back and stubbornly ignore. They’re too open, too revealing, and it makes Yuuri want to curl up in mortification because he didn’t intend to ever tell Victor that, didn’t intend to make Victor look at him with a trembling smile and hearts in his eyes, like Yuuri’s the only thing he ever wanted in life.

 

“Oh, Yuuri,” he says, something adoring in his voice as he wraps his arms around Yuuri and pulls him into a hug.

 

It’s warm, is Yuuri’s first thought. Warm and safe and so comfortable that Yuuri wouldn’t mind if he lived forever in the circle of Victor’s arms.

 

It only takes a brief moment of hesitation before Yuuri winds his arms around Victor, too, and he hopes that, despite it all, Victor will feel just as loved as Yuuri does now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! φ(．．;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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